


Running With The Devil

by WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken



Series: Fallen Angels [2]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken/pseuds/WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken
Summary: At the end of The Angels Led Him Away, Deeks was forced out of LAPD and Kensi learned the truth about Afghanistan. As they deal with the fallout, they also have to confront a new criminal empire as it takes shape in the shadows.





	1. Fallout

The Mission was bustling as ever, yet its centre was oddly silent. Agents Hanna, Callen and Blye all sat at their desks but the normal banter was gone. Though Sam and Callen still engaged with one another, Granger had heard them falter every time they attempted to draw Kensi Blye into their conversations. It was a credit to both men that they hadn’t given up.

He walked past the bullpen and into Henrietta's office. "They're not improving," he said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs.

"Give them time," said Hetty, not looking up from her laptop

"They've had two months. Agent Blye needs a new partner."

Hetty closed the laptop and looked at Owen. "You really believe that now is a good time to give Miss Blye a new partner, especially after your last attempt." True enough, Brewer had looked good on paper and in the interviews, but as it turned out he was largely incapable of accepting responsibility for his mistakes. To say that this caused tension was a grave understatement. He'd lasted a week.

Granger didn't look away. "There's never going to be a good time. Betrayals are like that. You're never ready to trust again. Eventually you just have to get back on the horse."

“If you hadn’t told her like you did I could have managed it better.”

“You had more than a year and I wasn't going to lie to her. She’s Donny’s little girl. He saved my life.” And all that implied. He mentally turned back to business before he started wool gathering. “She can’t work alone.”

“I agree. She’ll have to stay in office.”

“Not an option,” Granger said firmly, there was too much work to be done and benching Kensi would only serve to drive her further away from her co-workers and from NCIS. “Where are Nassir and Thompson?”

“Nassir is conducting a security review at Pendleton. Thompson has the currency theft case.”

“Agent Jones then.”

“I don’t like the hole that leaves in Ops.”

“You made do without an analyst for years before Nell came along. And you’ve made do without a psychologist for four years.” Which looked more suspicious in light of recent revelations. An absence of mental stability in her agents would make it a hell of a lot easier for Henrietta to manipulate them, Granger reflected. He would need to make finding a replacement psychologist a priority.

Before Henrietta could raise an objection, the phone rang. She settled for raising the phone, but Granger reached over and pressed the speaker button. There was no way in hell he was letting Henrietta pull another fast one on him, which meant he needed all the information he could get and needed to be thinking twelve moves ahead.

He wasn’t going to stop at petty tricks either. Every keystroke and syllable that went through the every NCIS office or an agent’s phone or computer worldwide was recorded for counter-intelligence purposes. Granger had diverted the take from the LA office to a team that Vance had authorised. They were sorting through it and forwarding it to him. Just keeping up with the summaries was exhausting. Whatever her other faults, Henrietta kept on top of a phenomenal amount of work, more than her responsibilities really required, though she also had a security clearance that far outstripped that required by an office manager.

"Lange, you're on speaker with Assistant Director Granger."

"Miss Lange, Assistant Director, good morning. This is DEA Special Agent in Charge Hammond." The two parties dealt with pleasantries briefly. "We are working a case that's crossed into your world. In the spirit of cooperation I thought it best that our agents work the case together."

Henrietta looked at him over the desk enquiringly. Granger nodded in agreement. Inter-agency cooperation was always good and getting Callen's team into the field would be good for them until a more permanent solution could be found.

"We would be more than happy to assist, Agent Hammond," said Hetty.

"I'll send you the casework."

Granger got up and walked to the bullpen. Who was he kidding. He was building a case against Henrietta Lange, not one that would ever see the inside of a court of law, but a case all the same.

Agent Callen, your team has a show the flag with DEA, get down to the boatshed for a briefing."

"Why us?"

"NCIS's mission includes cross border drug enforcement for one, Agent Callen. Two, you have no active cases currently."

"And three?"

Hetty had apparently walked up behind him. "Three, Mr Callen, is that you know the lead agent." He hated it when she did that.

***

The four DEA agents were waiting at the boat shed when the team arrived. The introductions were brief. Peterson, Jacobson, Robertson and their boss, Supervisory Agent Talia Del Campo, who made a puzzled face at the team's reduced size. Sam made a quick throat cutting gesture and Talia swallowed her questions whole.

"Congratulations on the promotion," Callen said.

"Well you do a good job for long enough and the bosses decide that you should do something else."

"What have we got?"

"We know it’s a Navy supply ship between Naval Base Ventura County and Afghanistan, we know there's a load of 90% pure Afghani Heroin coming in this week, and we know that one of the crew is Matthew Johnson. Peterson scoped him picking up the gear in Islamabad."

"Seems like you know the who, the what the how, and the when. What do you need us for?"

"What we don't know is the who else. Both on the Venture Star and who their purchaser is.

"How much heroin?"

"40 kilos, street value of nearly $5 million."

"Not much."

"In most places, Agent Blye, 40 kilos is a lot of heroin.”

"7 tonnes of pure heroin are consumed in the LA metro area every year." Kensi said. Sam and Callen shared a smirk. Wikipedia.

"40 kilos is still a lot of heroin. Not to mention it’s a line."

"A line?" Callen asked.

"Sorry, I've been working with some Brits. A way to smuggle drugs into the country. We shut it down, we slow the flow."

"From a torrent to a mere flood." Kensis tone had changed to openly hostile. Even the three 'sons noticed.

"Ok, What the hell is up with you this morning?"

Maybe I'd rather not sweep leaves on a windy day."

Callen decided to step in before things got contentious. "Kensi enough. Come with me." He led her away from the group.

"If you don't want to do this then you are more than welcome to head back to the Mission and do all our paperwork."

"Forgive me Callen, when you're sent halfway round the world as a pawn in your boss's game, you can tell me how to behave, but until then."

"Taking it out on Talia isn't going to change what happened."

Kensi looked out one of the boatshed's windows. "Maybe I'm just tired of being used. And I hate this small ball crap. There is no reason for us to work this case, so its either Granger's bureaucratic back scratching or worse, another of Hetty's games. But we don't have a choice, so let's just get it over with."

"You could always transfer."

"We both know I'd probably wind up assigned to Ice Station Zebra."

"I doubt that Granger would do that."

"Yeah, but Hetty probably would."

"You really don't trust her anymore."

"If she did to you what she did to me, would you?"

Callen couldn't disagree. “Let’s get to work.”

***

Deeks was driving with his new partner – co-worker, he mentally corrected himself – Juan Alvarez, in a Lexus. Admittedly, it was a work car, but still, it was a Lexus. There was another parked directly behind them, containing two other guys who would serve as their back up. He was armed, a 9mm Sig, but that was all he expected to need. Besides, a rifle was too cumbersome and sub-machine guns were against company policy. And California law, seeing as they were here for legitimate work.

Deeks guided the Lexus into a parking space and hopped out, accompanied by Alvarez and their compatriots from the follow car, who took up positions at either end of the motorcade, while Deeks and Alvarez headed a few yards down the street.

Their boss, Graeme Partridge had come back from Iraq after Gulf I and gone into business as a stand over man, enforcing debts for loan sharks and bookmakers. After a few years of that work, he opened his own loan sharking operation, but made the mistake of doing his own dirty work. In 1995 he’d been convicted of aggravated battery, sentenced to two years, and while in prison, met Roger Thornhill, snr. From there he'd become a mid-level debt collector/shooter for Thornhill's crew, eventually rising to oversee a crew of soldiers. When the elder Thornhill had died in a hail of bullets, Partridge had briefly served under Roger Thornhill jnr before the latter had gone to prison. In the two years since, Partridge had apparently reinvented himself as the head of Private Investigations and Security, which provided services from mall security and find out whether your husband is sleeping with your best friend to political black bag jobs and marijuana cash holding.

Which was where Deeks – or Max Gentry more correctly – came in, picking up the cash from the dispensaries to deliver to the fortified warehouse in Long Beach that housed the cash in exchange for a 10% cut. He knocked on the door of the dispensary. The owner was waiting and let them in, a quick count and a signed invoice and they were out again.

On the bright side, he wasn't one of the guys whose job it was to stand around on the off chance that some absurdly stupid individual decided to commit suicide by trying to rob the place. On the downside, it was a pity that Max didn't have any experience as an investigator.

Not that it would have made much difference, he got the sense that despite his relatively good assignment, he was outside the circle of trust. He was also pretty sure he was being followed. Which meant staying away from Kensi, he known that going in. He needed this job and he was prepared to make the sacrifice.

Deeks was aware that there were other parts of the operation. Like the guys who were running a surveillance operation out of a room in the warehouse. Or the crew that did something that required them to go out with drilling equipment at night and come back with bags filled with something. There had been a string of jewelry store robberies lately. Still a detective.

Beyond that, he'd learned very little in the two months since he had started work at Private (for some reason, they never used the acronym). That was fine. If three years in undercover had taught him anything, it was to be patient. Thornhill would either trust him enough to bring him in, or he wouldn't. Some big play to force Thornhill into a decision was far more likely to backfire than to achieve its aim. In the meantime, he had a delivery to make.


	2. Meeting

Nell was silent as Kensi parked the SRX in front of the Master at Arms building at Naval Base Ventura County. She'd tried to engage the brunette in conversation, but Kensi was focused on driving, or more precisely, shutting out anything that wasn't work related.

They'd decided not to go to Mazzuno's CO and shipmates. A pair of NCIS agents asking questions or even hanging around could have Mazzuno and his partners, if any, dumping the drugs and going to ground, eliminating any chance of identifying their clients.

The office was well staffed but not particularly busy at the moment. Nell supposed they saw more action when the pilots at Mugu and the longshoreman and seabees at Port Hueneme kicked back at the end of the day.

The two female agents walked over to the receptionist. "Master Chief Petty Officer Rawls is expecting us." The Petty Officer pointed them towards a man in his 40s with two stars topping his sleeve insignia.

They walked over and after introductions were exchanged, briefed the Chief on the case.

"Mazzuno huh, you'll want Costa." Rawls pecked at his keyboard, muttering "I still cannot type," as he did so.

"You seem pretty sure." Finally, Rawls succeeded in his aim and turned the screen around to show them a picture of Costa, which was supplemented by a relatively long list of charges for minor crimes.

"Mazzuno and Costa have always been thick as thieves, nothing really serious. Their last arrest was for a bar fight Mazzuno picked with some marines. Costa stepped in to help out his buddy."

"That's the spirit," said Kensi.

"Anyone else?" Nell asked.

"Not close, and not to tell you your job ma'am, you'd want to keep something like that to as few people as possible. There's not a lot to do aboard ship but talk. The fewer people who know, the less likely it is that someone will say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Costa's smart enough to know that at least."

"Do either of them have a vehicle?" Kensi asked.

Rawls pecked at his keyboard some more until he found the base vehicle logs.

"Costa doesn't. Mazzuno owns a black jeep." He gave them the plate number and its space while Mazzuno wasn't in base housing. "Mazzuno and Costa are due to check out for a two day leave in less than an hour. Do you want me to put that on hold?"

"No, let's not do anything to spook them."

"I'll call the gates, make sure there's no random search of the jeep."

"Thanks Master Chief."

"Any time ma'am."

The two agents drove to the parking structure. Nell reached into the back seat to grab a real time tracking kit.

"I've got it," said Kensi. Nell wasn't going to fight her.

After a few minutes, Nell saw Mazzuno walking towards his car, carrying a large gym bag.

"Kensi, Mazzuno's coming."

"I'm almost done."

Nell hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She couldn't allow Maazuno to proceed, or he would see Kensi and her gear lying next to his car. Confronting Mazzuno would blow their cover. Then she saw the steering wheel. She pressed once on the horn. Mazzuno looked in her direction, but she was already leaning down into the passenger seat.

"All done." Kensi said. Nell breathed a sigh of relief.

Mazzuno placed his bag in the trunk of his car and drove off.

Kensi got back into the driver's seat. "Nice work with the distraction."

"It was nothing."

"It was quick thinking, don't sell yourself short." Kensi closed her eyes and sighed. "I meant-."

Nell smiled. "I know what you meant." Nell picked up the camera from its place at her feet. "Now don't let him get away."

***

Deeks was riding his motorcycle. One of the few benefits of losing a job he'd come to love was that Henrietta Lange no longer controlled his life. As he turned a corner, he looked back. Sure enough, the same car was still following him.

He drove around the block again, checking at each corner. They weren't cops. They'd have broken off at such a basic counter-surveillance tactic, preferring to reacquire later. Obviously less experienced.

He rode down through a series of random turns before speeding up, then quickly turning into an alley. He parked his motorcycle behind a dumpster, dismounted and drew a collapsible baton before crouching down. The surveillance car drove by. Deeks stood up and smashed the driver's side window. Then he drew his pistol, an unregistered one he kept for when he wasn't at work, and leaned in the window, making sure to cover both occupants.

"License and registration please." He said to the driver.

"How about fuck you." Clearly not a co-operative guy.

"Who do you work for?"

"Your mother, I just got done three-waying her and your sister." Max screamed in his ear to open the door and pummel the man senseless. The more rational part of his mind said that was a bad idea, no matter how immediately satisfying it would be, at least until he had more information. He settled for slamming his fist on the door. "NAME."

The man said, "why don't you ask your boss."

Deeks drew the knife he kept in his belt and buried it in the front and rear driver's side tyres. Then he got back on his motorcycle and headed off. He called Partridge. "I need to see him."

"So I've heard. You know where Rick's is?"

"Everybody goes to Rick's."

"Meet me there."

***

Ten minutes later, Deeks walked into Rick's. Thornhill, Partridge and another man in a waiter's outfit were seated at a table. Thornhill and Partridge rose as he walked in. Partridge moved his hand behind his back, probably reaching for a pistol but Thornhill did nothing other than extend his hand. A token of respect, perhaps. He hadn't spent enough time with the guy to really know him. Either way, he was shaking before he knew what was happening. It had an oddly calming effect.

"Mr Gentry. Please sit. I don't believe you know Alain Charnier, he works here, and also for me," he said, with particular emphasis on the last part. Apparently, Alain was inside the circle of trust.

Deeks nodded to the Frenchman but decided to get to the point. "You're having me followed."

"How do you know it was us and not the police?"

"I've been followed by cops before. This was different. And you haven't answered my question."

Ernest turned to Partridge. "Good instincts." He turned back to Deeks. "Yes, my men were following you. Before you lose your cool. We were checking you out, we check everybody out."

"I thought you wouldn't need to after what I did for you."

"Saving my life buys you my eternal gratitude, not my trust. I have never made an exception for anyone and I'm not going to start now. You may not like it but this is not heaven, this is the world and there are troubles in it."

"I thought you were nice."

"I'm polite, not nice."

"Fine, but I don't like being followed."

"Then you will be happy to know that that's over." Deeks relaxed internally, even as he suppressed the external signs. They were letting him in.

"Oh?"

"For starters, there's clearly no point now. And I'm satisfied that you're not a cop. And I need you your expertise on a job."

"My expertise?"

"Your experience. Something many of us lack, when my brother was sent away, a lot of people went with him." Funny phrase, sent away. Poor phone discipline had landed Roger Thornhill twenty years in prison for conspiracy to distribute.

"I don't exactly have a lot of experience moving drugs."

"You're job isn't to test or sell the product, that's Alain's end, but unlike him you've dealt with the higher end of the criminals before, I want you there to back him up and make sure it looks right. If it is, Alain will make the final arrangements, but if you think something is wrong, just walk away."

"Alright."

"If you have any concerns, now's the time."

"Do you know these guys?"

"They've been checked out. As have the people on the other end. They own about twenty tanks, believe it or not, reasonable guys though." Thornhill had been to Afghanistan himself, Frank Lucas-style.

"The product?"

"Afghani heroin. 40 kilos, 90% pure. We buy for fifteen grand a kilo, knock it into 60 kilos and then sell them for twenty grand each."

"Where's the meet?"

"Parking building on Castro. 4pm tomorrow. Pickup for the gear will be in the day after."

***

Sam and Callen were sitting in the Challenger. Callen was sucking on a lollipop. Sam was making small origami swans. Talia and Peterson were at the other end of the block. Robertson, Jameson, Kensi and Nell were watching the other entrance. They had followed Mazzuno's car as he picked up Costa and then to a parking structure in East Hollywood.

A tall man, blonde hair on the long side, surfer's build in a leather jacket and jeans rode up on a motorcycle, followed closely by a Prius, and drove into the parking structure.

"Was that?" Talia asked.

"No it wasn't," said Callen

"I'm pretty sure it was."

"It wasn't," said Sam.

"Was what who?" Kensi asked.

"The buyers might be here," said Callen.

"Callen and I will go in," said Talia. "The rest of you need to be ready to follow when they come out."

Callen and Talia headed into the structure.

"Talk to me Eric."

"Third floor, northwest corner."

When the pair spotted the meeting, Talia pulled out a directional microphone.

***

Deeks tried to keep an eye on the two navy men. Both were armed, but on the other hand they were also store clerks, not a lot of actual combat experience. They weren't going to be a problem. Though they might try something stupid.

"You have the product?"

The taller man popped the trunk. Inside was a large gym bag with forty kilos of heroin inside.

Deeks took another look at the men, trying to get a read on them. Nothing seemed out of place, they were nervous, but there was no apparent deception. Either they were honest or very good liars. "We're good," said Deeks.

Alain stepped forward and pulled a knife. Both navy men pulled pistols and Deeks pulled one himself. He could get them both, probably before one of them shot Alain, but then the line would be dead, not a good first day.

Alain realised what he'd done. "I'm just going to take a sample from one of the bricks."

The two navy men relaxed slightly. "You could have said so."

"Yeah well, I didn't, so put the guns away, alright."

"Your buddy first."

Deeks debated his decision for a second, but there was nothing to be gained by upping the confrontation. So he holstered his pistol. The two navy men reciprocated.

Alain spiked a small sample from one of the bricks, then dropped it into a small vial that he pulled from a jacket pocket. He pulled a small roll of tape from another pocket and sealed the hole. He mixed a small amount of reagent into the vial, shook it, and nodded in satisfaction when it turned a deep blue.

"90% pure, as promised," said the shorter navy man.

Alain nodded. "We'll make the exchange at 2pm in Northridge." Alain gave then the rest of the address.

"Not now?"

"I wasn't going to bring $200,000 to a meeting with people I'd never met."

"You try to screw us..."

"We're both going to get what we want, forgive me for being cautious."

"We'll see."

Deeks and Alain headed back towards their vehicles. "I really don't understand why you drive that thing." Deeks said, pointing at the Prius.

"It's the most common car in the state. What I don't understand is why you drive a contraption that not only sticks out like a sore thumb but if you come off it, you'll be paralysed, if you're lucky."

"The wind in my hair."

"You wear a helmet."

"Details, you've never wanted to ride raw American power?"

"That's why I have the Mustang."

***

Talia and Callen beat a hasty retreat downstairs as the meeting broke up.

The pair got into their respective cars. Nell, Kensi, Robertson, and Jameson headed off after Mazzuno and Costa. Sam put the challenger in gear and followed Deeks and the Frenchman in the Prius.

The two cars split paths. Sam and Callen followed Deeks.

Deeks stopped at some lights and Sam and Callen stopped two cars back. A Prius drove through the intersection, followed by Talia and her partner.

"Talia break off right now," said Sam.

"Why?"

"They're using counter-surveillance."

Sam turned to Callen. "Good to know he listened, I suppose."

"What do you think he's doing?"

"I don't know, maybe he's doing his own thing, maybe Bates is still using him."

"You don't waste good," Callen agreed. "When this case is over, we need to find out."

Sam nodded.

***

They rendezvoused with Talia a few blocks from the boat shed.

"You want to tell me what that was all about? Why didn't you tell me that Deeks was undercover with these guys?"

"We didn't know he was."

"He went back to LAPD?" Talia asked.

"Not exactly," Callen said. Talia quirked an eyebrow.

"You remember Detective Jonas Hodges?" Sam asked.

Talia frowned. "Corrupt cop, brought in for murder, money laundering, robbery a couple of months ago."

"Eight years ago, Deeks was part of his crew," said Sam. Talia's face went through all the various permutations of surprise.

"Yeah, that was our response too," said Callen.

"Why isn't Deeks in bracelets? Hell, why isn't he on trial?"

"The bosses didn't want to burn all the good cases Deeks had worked in the eight years since or the bosses who rose high in the interrim."

"So they went trawling through the General Orders to find something else to fire him for," said Talia.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"And you're protecting him?"

"The man was tortured rather than give up my wife, so we didn't see him, and neither did you, or your guys," said Sam.

"And Kensi never knows," said Callen.

Talia nodded. "I'll pass it along. They together?"

"They were."

"And now?"

"I'm not so sure."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Talia before getting in to her car to head back to the office.

Callen turned to Sam. "Did that mean what I think it meant?"

"Who knows?"

***

Deeks, Alain and Thornhill were sitting together at a table in Rick's, discussing the finer points of basketball while several other patrons, all, Deeks had been told, members of Thornhill's crew, sat and drank and talked at various tables. They were interrupted when Graeme Partridge came into the bar. "The DEA knows about the line."

"How?"

"Don't know, but my guy says they're working with people from something called NCIS."

Thornhill raised his eyebrows. "I've never heard of them."

"I haven't heard of them either," said Partridge.

Thornhill turned to Deeks. "Have you heard of them?" Deeks shook his head. Sam and Callen were going to be pissed when they heard about this.

Thornhill turned to the others assembled in the room. "Would somebody please google NCIS?"

One of the men tapped away at a laptop. "Here we go, National Criminal Intelligence Service. They're British."

Alain looked at Partridge. "What the hell have we done to piss off the Brits?" Deeks could barely suppress his grin.

"Oh wait there's something else. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Originally Navy, spun off as a civilian agency after the Tailhook scandal, responsible for investigating crimes involving Naval and Marine personnel."

"Oh, well that makes more sense," said Alain.

"We're going to need a new plan," said Thornhill.

"The DEA will have the courier's phones tapped by now," said Partridge.

"If they were the way in."

"They were."

"Then there's nothing we can do and they're not our people. We've got to look at the whole board. What could the DEA conceivably know about us."

"They could have seen me and Max meet with the couriers."

"They might come after you."

"If they don't have the drugs, then what do they have."

"We'll need to check that with Bob, but either way we need to keep the drugs away from the DEA."

The men spent the next few hours making plans. When they were done, Ernest sat back in his chair. "Max, you'll run point on this."

"Me?"

"Him?" Partridge said.

Ernest turned to Partridge, pulled up close, Deeks could barely make out what was said but it sounded like "If he screws this up, we'll know." Then he turned back to the group. "Go home, get some sleep, we'll let our guys know what's going to happen tomorrow."

Deeks finished his drink and headed out.

***

Peterson and Jameson were watching the Navy men. The men went to a bar near the base, brought several rounds for everyone present and generally drew attention to themselves as much as possible. There was so much going on and the women who fawned over the sailors so obviously what was expected that neither of the two DEA agents noticed one of those women slip a cellphone into Mazzuno's pants pocket, nor did they see grizzled old Graeme Partridge sitting in the back of the bar, watching the proceedings with steely blue eyes.

***

Once Deeks got back to his apartment, he went into the bathroom, pulled a plastic wrapped phone out of the cistern and sent a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's Deeks' up to? I promise to reveal all, eventually. Assuming I'm subtle enough that you haven't figured it out already.


	3. Busted

Kensi walked into the boatshed with more of a spring in her step.

"You're in a good mood this morning."

"What do you mean?" Kensi attempted to bury her happiness, no, satisfaction, and failed utterly.

"You have you're ‘I just got laid’ swagger going on. Is Deeks back in town?"

"This is all going to go pear-shaped," said Kensi, neatly avoiding the question. Callen decided to let it go. Kensi was entitled to her secrets.

"What makes you think that?"

"Tip from a CI. One of the couriers is all paranoid, thinks he's being followed." If Kensi had a CI why didn't she mention it the day before.

"That's it? Somehow I doubt Talia is going to respond well, given your little sweeping leaves moment yesterday. Especially if you can't wipe that smirk off your face."

Kensi's face dropped into a blank mask, but then the corners of her mouth rose and there was apparently nothing she could do about the glimmer in her eyes.

"You're not going to tell her."

"No point."

"So I'm not the only one with a winning personality."

"Let's just say there's a bone of contention and leave it at that."

"Fine, I'll do it. But this goes up in smoke and I get to say I told you so."

***

Kensi walked over to Talia."I'm sorry about yesterday. I was having some work frustration and I took it out on you, which wasn't fair. It won't happen again."

"Apology accepted."

Robertson looked at them. "That's it?"

"This isn't high school, we're adults. Kensi was a bitch, she repented. If she does it again we'll have a problem but until then how about we all act like the professionals we are."

"Yes boss," said Jameson, nudging his colleague with his shoulder.

"Yes boss," said Robertson.

"There's one other thing. I have a CI who's close to Costa. He says he was acting paranoid."

"Didn't seem that way last night," said Peterson.

"I think we could have a problem."

"I think you're being paranoid," said Peterson.

"Cool it," said Talia. "Best we err on the side of caution. I'll have LAPD standing by for backup. You think that will be enough?" She asked Kensi.

"It's overkill," said Peterson.

"I understand your position Peterson, but it's my call." Talia said firmly.

"It's fine," said Kensi. "What's the plan?"

***

Sam, Callen, Kensi, Nell, Talia, and the 'sons had all been sitting for more than two hours when the bagmen showed up, half an hour early. The plan was to follow the distributor's bagmen back to their boss and build a case against the distributor as well. The courier could keep, after all they knew exactly where they would be.

The Frenchman, who may or may not have been the distributor, arrived an hour before the bagmen. He trawled the block twice, peering into cars and looking at the cameras, even disabling one that pointed directly at the meeting place. Fortunately, only Peterson and Jameson were on the block, watching from a rooftop. The rest were parked a block away, with their LAPD backup - organised by Talia - on standby in case things went sideways.

The bagmen wandered up and down the street until Mazzuno and Costa arrived, five minutes after the designated time.

A few words were exchanged. Then the bagmen and the couriers exchanged bags and the two sailors drove off. The bag men separated instantly, two heading for each end of the street before again going their separate ways.

***

"Okay guys, let’s give them a few minutes to bed in the tails, don't want them to miss the show." Four cellphones were laid out on the table in front of Deeks. There was a map of Los Angeles taped to the wall in front of him, next to a list composed of two columns of numbers. He had a police radio hooked to his left ear and Ernest and Partridge were sitting to his right, sharing a box of popcorn.

The bagmen walked for a few minutes. The speaker in Deeks' ear crackled. "Tails are in place. Do you want us to follow the sailors?" LAPD getting confirmaion on the record. Focusing on avoiding being blamed for failure was smart practice, so long as you didn't care about succeeding.

"No, we know where they're going," said a female voice, Talia Del Campo. Small world. He felt bad for what was hopefully about to happen, but her op had been blown when Partridge's source had talked. He leaned forward slightly so that his voice would be picked up by all four cell phones."Alright guys. Now."

***

The bagman broke into a run. Callen cursed, they'd been made. He wasn't sure how, but he knew they would catch hell for it. Then Kensi's voice came over the radio. "Our guy is rabbiting."

"Ours too," said Talia.

"So is ours," said Robertson.

Callen and Sam chased the bagman, even as Talia started calling in the LAPD backup and the onsite commander called in more units.

They ran north

" Unit 76, head east on Ford, cut him off."

***

"Heading north on James," said Kyle, the bagman that G and Sam were chasing.

Deeks looked at the map, quickly determining where Kyle, the LAPD and G Callen were to each other.

He picked up the centre-left phone. “Kyle, head right into the next alley.”

***

The bagman broke right into an alley, neatly avoiding the trap G had laid.

They continued running through several different streets. This time Callen directed two units to intercept on different streets. But again the bagman broke through the box, taking routes perfectly designed to slip him through LAPD's net. It couldn't be just luck.

“They're listening in to the radios, switch channels," said Callen.

***

"Switch to channel 8," said another voice. Deeks looked at the list next to the map, radio channels for LAPD courtesy of one of Partridge's guys, and adjusted his own radio accordingly. The voices came back straight away.

He listened to Kensi shout her position.

“Thomas turn left onto Park.”

***

Granger stood in Ops listening to the joint operation turn rapidly into a nightmare. "They're still listening into the radios." At this point, even if they caught the couriers and everyone else, it was going to be a witch hunt, at best.

“They must have LAPD's channel codes." Granger turned to Eric. "Crash the cell network, now.”

“Are you insane?”

“You're the one who broke the internet.”

“That took sixteen hours to fix and the internet doesn’t carry 911 calls.”

"Just do it, Mr Beale," Henrietta said.

"Fine, but I'm whitelisting 911." He started typing into the computer.

"Now, Mr Beale."

"I don't know what kind of movies you've been watching, but hacking isn’t just tap a couple of keys and you’re in. Getting into a system takes time."

"As I recall, you broke the internet in short order," said Henrietta.

"I already had the virus."

"Why?" Granger asked.

"Bar bet."

"Huh. Fine how long will it take?"

"An hour or so."

Granger could only growl in frustration.

***

A phone rang to Deeks’ right. Partridge answered and listened to the person on the other end. He said, “Okay,” and hung up. “Alain is clear, no tails.”

Deeks nodded. "Well, all games must come to an end."

Then he shut down the phones, removed the SIM cards, and broke them in half.

***

Sam and Callen finally caught up with their courier when he turned up an alley. The boy, who could have been no older than twenty, saw the fence in front of him and thought better of it. He turned and raised his hands.

"Federal agents, put the bag on the ground, get down on your knees, cross your ankles and interlace your fingers behind your head." The young man complied.

Sam walked up to cuff and search the young man. "Are you carrying any weapons or sharp objects?"

"No."

Callen opened the bag. Inside was a plastic wrapped copy of the A Song of Ice and Fire books.

Over the radio, Callen could hear Talia start swearing. Same story there, he supposed. The bagman was smiling. "Lawyer."

***

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town, Alain Charnier stopped his car in an alley. He'd been driving around for the better part of an hour making sure he wasn't being tailed.

Shortly thereafter, the two navy men showed up.

"You wanna tell me what this is all about," said the shorter of the pair.

"Simply, we were concerned that the DEA might know about you. As it turns out, we were correct."

"How do we know it isn't you they know about?"

"I suppose you don't, but if they did, you'd be in handcuffs now." A logical leap, but whatever, Alain just wanted to get this over with. He pulled a large bag from his the trunk of his car. "There's an extra $50,000 in there." The two men raised their eyebrows in surprise. "Consider it hazard pay." The sailors exchanged their bag of heroin for the bag of money.

The taller of the men shrugged. "Well, thanks, I suppose."

"You're welcome." Alain got back into his car and drove off.

***

Back at the Boatshed, things were tense.

"We should have been following the couriers. They would have led us to the distributor."

"As would the bagmen. Don't try to hide the fact that the Frenchman has someone."

"Your agency brought this case in and it was LAPD whose radio channela we were using. My agency isn't a likely infiltration target for street distributors and our counterintel is too good."

"Everyone says that." Talia stopped. "So you agree the leak came from LAPD."

"Excuse me."

"You agree that the leak is in LAPD. Listen, I agree that there is the possibility of a leak in DEA and when I find the rat they will suffer. But I need to have a job in order to do that and I have enough assholes who don't like that the girl wonder got promoted over their buddies without dealing with the fallout from this, I think we both want to tie this in a bow and hang it aroujd someone else's neck."

"So you're going to make LAPD look bad for your own benefit."

"Well they do have a mole and I hear you may have reason to dislike them."

"There's nothing wrong with a side benefit."

"Do you mind if I use your interrogation room. I'll have my guys bring the sailors in."

"Be my guest."

***

When Mazzuno and Costa got back to base, Peterson and Jacobson were waiting for them. They found the money in the bag. That and the handovers in Islamabad and LA were enough for a conviction for importing, especially once they found heroin residue in the gym bag. Beyond that, the sailors knew nothing about the distributors. They didn't know names, were simply told that the buyers would meet them at a specific parking structure at a specific time and give them further instructions. The guy who picked up the drugs looked and sounded French. At the first meeting he was with some guy, blonde, surfer's build. Talia stopped short of showing them Deeks' picture it would be rude, not least of all because he'd saved her life. She wasn't going to hang him out to dry unless it was her or him.

The report on the case made several vague references to the possibility of a mole in LAPD, which Grange backed. A DEA bulletin regarding a new drug distribution network tentatively headed by an unknown frenchman and his California surfer muscle was issued and found its way to LAPD, and from there to IA.

***

Ernest, Alain, Deeks and Partridge sat around the table with the four bagmen, who had been almost immediately released after their detention, a process speeded when they all asked for Ezra Klein, one of the city's top criminal defence attorneys, and he accepted their calls.

"Well they didn't look at the whole board. Focusing on the four boys when they should have been focusing on the couriers too. If there was a next time they'd be more careful."

"If?"

"We can't do this again."

"After all the work we did setting it up."

"Four of our guys were arrested, you and Max nearly were. The line is dead. We've got people I've never even heard of crawling up our asses. We're making too much noise and people get so worked up about drugs. It's not worth the risk. Not yet. We'll find another way."

"What about the dope?"

"Oh we'll sell it, but let's try to keep the excitement to a minimum from now on."

***

Max walked into his apartment. He immediately made for the bathroom and the plastic wrapped phone. This time he didn't bother with a text, just called the only number from memory. The person on the other end picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Deeks.”

“Hey Kens.”

Wherever this went, they were going there together. That’s how they rolled.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


End file.
